Canto XI

Already Fame had, in a thousand ways,
Publicly shown the Count his infamy ;
And made him view himself, not crowned with bays,
But with Actaeon's chaplet ; wrathful, he
More rancour now against his wife betrays ;
He seeks revenge for shame and injury;
And charges her with poisoning, when and how,
And violation of the marriage vow.

Now through the universal camp was known
What previously was hid, or but suspected ;
The woman in an independent tone
Soon cleared herself, and him to scorn subjected ;
And all laughed loud to see him overthrown,
With all the shame upon himself collected ;
To see how she rewarded the deceiver,
Who had been nearly purged of soul and liver.

The Count, who found all efforts were in vain
Against her, for his foul designs had failed,
Thought of another scheme, and his disdain :
Poured upon Titta, whom he then assailed ;
He knew the prison must his arm restrain,
Spite of himself, of all his powers curtailed ;
And, therefore, calls him traitor, and, " He lies,"
Adds the fierce Knight, " If he the fact denies !

And swears with sword and lance he will maintain
His word, in public, or in private fight ;
And that the challenge some renown may gain
His cards are duly stamped, in black and white ;
And boasts, in rather an affected vein,
How that he cannot even if he might,
(However well the challenge should apply)
Submit to a proud adversary's lie !

But Titta's friends as soon as they had read
The haughty challenge, joined with such effect
In his behalf — such interest too was made,
That all proceedings against him were checked ;
And, as he had some gallantry displayed,
Against Bologna, and the Pope Elect,
At once released him, as a Ghibelline,
Without exacting even a farthing fine.

Soon as released, he to the battle turns
His thoughts, and with a fixed determination
Prepares his arms, his capering, horse, and burns
For single combat ; he had no occasion
For aid, or counsel, — both of course he spurns ;
Yet just before a knight of reputation
Had come from Rome, a Tuscanella reckoned,
And him he chose, Attilio, for his second.

This was a little man, acute and quick,
Inventor of facetiae, and so keen ;
For subterfuge, evasion, cunning trick,
Equal to him no Jew had ever been ;
Poets he quizzed, but never splenetic,
Numbers for fun were near him always seen ;
His manners were so pleasant, droll, polite,
That every one approached, and left him, with delight.

For deeds of arms he was not much renowned,
Because in Rome it chanced to be the fashion
To box ; and boxing had great favour found,
Which put the Roman governor in a passion.
But valiant as Orlando, he was bound
To take the field, because, resolved to dash on,
He'd killed his man in some nocturnal brawl,
And feared the bailiff's vengeance, — that was all.

The Count perceiving all his schemes were lost,
All scattered to the winds, — his plans defeated ;
With friends consulted, if at any cost,
Peace might be made ; and he would have retreated,
Out of the perilous enterprize, engrossed
By feelings rather strong, and deeply seated ;
For timid grew his heart, his courage oozing
Away, amidst his wrath — a skin uninjured choosing.

But Count Miceno, and the Potta too,
Manfred, Roldano, and the brave Gherard,
Were near him and explained honour true)
How he was forfeiting the world's regard ;
Then they all promised they would see him through,
And interfere, if with him it went hard.
Thence he called up a most courageous look
And for his second Valentino took.

This man was skilled in fencing, and he taught
Him masterly manoeuvres; how to wound
His adversary in the chest, or throat;
And how to parry strokes, and change his ground ;
Then all the warrior's arms to him were brought,
These he examined with regard profound ;
But to a coward heart, all vain pretence,
A hundred arsenals would be no defence.

The night before the battle, what a night !
How did the Count, fatigued, distressed in mind,
Ponder upon the dread impending fight,
The mortal contest, peacefully inclined ;
Grievous his thoughts, revolving how he might
Avoid the encounter, how a rescue find ;
And long ere dawn, a little diabolic,
Roared to his servants he had got the colic.

His second, who reposed at no great distance,
Was wakened by the uproar in affright ;
His groom, Bertoccio, ran to give assistance,
With cloths made hot, and in his hand a light ;
The barber, and the sexton of Ambristans, C,
Arrived at once, to comfort the poor knight ;
And nature wanting something to assist her,
Forthwith the barber made a powerful clyster.

And fearful of exciting some suspicion,
The Count refused not, anxious to deceive ;
But feigning after, that its exhibition
Had no effect, nor had it, to relieve,
He called his friends and servants, and physician,
Near him to will what he had got to leave ;
The notary quick was sent for, Mortalin —
Who came, the schedule ready to begin.

Imprimis : he to heaven his soul resigned,
His body to the spot where first he breathed ;
And to the church, to ease his sinful mind,
Money he had not, and some land, bequeathed ;
Then puffed with vanity his arms resigned,
pointed weapons round him lay unsheathed)
He left his lance, the meteor of the field,
To Tartary's king — to Syria's prince, his shield ;

To Frederic the Emperor, his sword ;
His corslet to the Romans ; to the Queen
Of the Adriatic, honoured and adored,
A glove, and bracelet of transcendent sheen ;
And Florence, for the other, had his word ;
To the Greek King his skull's high polished screen ;
But the fine plume, he flourished " in battaglia;'
He said must be returned ta Signor Cornovaglia.

He left his Honour to the Potta's City,
The remnant of his chattels to his Squire.
Meanwhile around his bed in jest, or pity,
A crowd had met to see what might transpire ;
Among them was Roldano, it was fit he
Attended there ; believing not the liar;
He whispered in his ear with cautious haste,
"Count, you are now eternally disgraced ;

"Do you not see that they have found you out?
"That fear alone has made you sham so sick ?
"Jump up, and quickly too, no longer pout,
"Or shame will to us all, and mockery stick;
"You shall be parted, wherefore should you doubt,
"Soon as the fight commences—so be quick."
The Count shrugged up himself, and in reply,
Said he would rise, but was afraid to try.

Meanwhile from tent to tent, the news had flown,
And there was mighty laughter every where ;
Renoppia, who had not from couch of down
Uprisen, dispatched a courier to declare,
That she was ready him to serve and own,
And bear him company — his peril share ;
Quite sure that such brave efforts would be made,
She would be proud of having given him aid.

This embassy transfixed his trembling heart,
And woke his sleeping shame, and then began,
"Twixt cowardice and honour, combat smart,
Within the mind of the enamoured man ;
He now sits up in bed, a sudden start,
And says he's easier (though prodigious wan)
"By her sweet favour!" Now to dress he tries,
But Cowardice feigns a pang, and down again he lies.

The paintress of the East, tinting the skies
With her own lovely colour, beautified
The track of new-bom day, and flowers of dyes
Various and brilliant, Flora's lap supplied ;
Then came the Sun's bright car, whose splendid rise,
And beams of light, mantled the prospect wide,
Air, sea, and mountains, with refulgent gold ;
And night was from the clear horizon rolled;

When Miceno entered, with his friend
Doctor Cavalca ; — well the Doctor knew
The Count's disease, and what way it would end ;
He from the water this prognostic drew ;
And then did he most strongly recommend
Some old Malvazia, rich in taste and hue ;
And gave him without fear or hesitation
Three tumblers of that excellent potation.

The wine produced a gradual effect,
And warmed his heart so cowardly and vile ;
And to the stupid brain was sent direct
The subtle vapour, which provoked a smile ;
Then cried the Count: " These bumpers I respect,
"They've cured at once my colic and my bile,"
And darting out of bed ' withouten ail,'
He promptly donned in his accustomed mail.

Drawing his sword with furious indignation,
He slashed the zephyrs and the summer air ;
Had not the second checked his agitation,
He then had bolted headlong to the war;
Half armed. The noble juice whose stimulation
Stirs up the timid, is more powerful far
Than natural courage ; well the ancients said,
Wine has more power than kings, or armies tyrant-led.

Now while he arms, behold Renoppia come ;
His valour she redoubles, to befriend him ;
And with sweet words, and eyes that fix his doom,
Love-sparkling, offers kindly to attend him ;
Already ardent flames his veins consume,
Moved by desire, beyond what Hope could lend him,
And by the maddening wine ; upon his knees
He falls, and to her lovely eyes, breathes words like these :

"O laughing stars, that grace the heaven of love !
"On which my wretched life depends, my all ;
"O, ye are fortune's burning wheels that move
"My bliss or ruin, as ye rise or fall ;
"Images of the sun, the sun above,
"Sparks of that fire, which keeps the soul in thrall ;
"Whose beams, whose flashes, as inflamed they dart,
"Dazzle the intellect, and burn the heart.

"Eyes of my soul, sweet pupils, mirrors bright,
"Where peerless beauty doth itself admire ;
"Eye-brows celestial, from whose beauteous height
"Love throws his glowing arrows, tipt with fire ;
"Your lovely features pour delicious light
"Upon my heart, which, panting with desire,
"Envies not heaven its stars, as others do,
"Though it has many, and you only two.

"As the sun's rays inflame the earth, and spread
"Around her blooming form a purple vest ;
"So thy all powerful rays my heart invade,
"And fill with pleasing thoughts my longing breast ;
"My soul uplifts itself to God, who made
"Thee, perfect work! most perfectly exprest ;
"And soars beyond mortality's confine ;
"O, lovelier than the eyes of heaven are thine.

"Regard mc with a joyous gaze, thou bright
"And faithful torch of my existence! blind
"Except for thee ; direct me to the fight
"With loving looks, and be a witness kind
"To all my peril, that the enemy's might
"And coun.sel may be vain, to scorn consigned ;
I care not, I, to fight with him pell-mell
"I will even challenge to the combat, hell !"

This saying, up he rose ; all fire and flame,
In countenance and act, called for his steed,
And quite astonished those who thought him tame,
So altered that he looked of noble breed ;
Already Titta, eager after fame,
Was seen in camp, such was his knightly speed ;
His armour plume and mantle were of black,
And no one but his second at his back.

The anxious people now impatient wait
The coming of the Count, and murmur loud :
The benches are all filled, the topmost seat
Groans with the weight of the encircling crowd ;
And from the past they augur that his fate
Will be disastrous to a spirit proud ;
When suddenly was heard the trumpet's clang,
And a pavilion opened as the echoes rang.

And lo ! by fifty valiant knights attended,
The first in rank of that prodigious host,
The Count appeared ; and to the list descended,
A white and brilliant upper-vest his boast ;
Upon a horse with armour rich defended,
Seeming all fire, so high his head he tost ;
He snorts, neighs, bites his bit, the earth behind
Strikes with his hoofs, and battles with the wind.

His head and hands are naked, but his breast
Armed with a cuirass ; right before, the fair
Renoppia holds his helm, and waving crest,
The good Gherard is seen his sword to bear,
That famous sword, Chisotto's, and the best :
The second holds the sheath, to Roldan's care
Is given the lance ; thus all their friendship prove,
Voluce has his shield, and Jocopin a glove.

Bertoldo has the other, the two spurs
Lanfranc and Galeotto ; and on high
Upon a stick, the Count Alberto stirs
"I'he cap which lines the helmet, solemnly ;
Hut, after all, one of the interpreters,
Zannin comes trotting, from the tent hard by,
Upon an ass, carrying across his spall,
Umbrella, tooth-brush, and a urinal.

When the brave Count was harnessed cap-a-pie,
And for the light th' arena was prepared,
The trumpets gave the signal merrily,
Both horses rushed like whirlwinds o'er the sward ;
Titta was struck upon the chest, but he
Had armour which the blow repelled, though hard ;
The Count in that attack, so truly grand, .
Let his lance fall out of his trembling hand...

By Titta he was struck upon the throat,
Between the helm and border of the shield ;
So fierce a blow, and with such fury fraught,
That he bent back, and in his saddle reeled ;
It cut the gorget and such ruin wrought,
The visor opened, and across the field
The corslet sparkled ; fragments of the spear
Flew up to heaven — then quaked the Count with fear.

Down fell his visor, down he looked and spied
His upper vest becrimsoned ; then he screamed,
"Alas! I'm dead!" and turned his eyes aside
Towards his squire, his eyes with horror gleamed;
"Help, for my soul is flitting through iny side ;
"Help, quickly help!" in hoarsest accents streamed;
A hundred persons answered to that sound,
And took him from his horse, for he had swooned.

They bore him to his tent, put him to bed,
And ihere stripped off his shining arms and clothes ;
The surgeon doffed the helmet from his head,
And then to shrive him soon the priest arose ;
His friends, in fact, believed him to be dead,
And each to give his own opinion chose ;
It seemed to them quite wrong, they all confest,
To put a man, like him, to such a test.

Titta who sees his adversary yield,
And carried off for dead towards his tent ;
Struts to the sound of trumpets round the field,
And to his friends returns to tell the event ;
So arrogant, he thinks his fame is sealed,
Greater than Mars himself, and quite content,
He 'lights, but ere disarmed, a moment snatches,
And sends to Rome a courier with dispatches.

He writes of a prodigious man of might,
Famed in these parts, a knight of high renown ;
Perhaps a greater never armed for fight,
Nor was there one more powerful ever known ;
He says he'd heart enough to scorn his spite,
And dare him to a mortal tug alone ;
And in the presence of both camps had prest,
At the first shock, his weapon through his breast.

He sent the news to Gaspar Salviani,
Dean of the Accademia de' Mancini,
That he might tell it to the Frangipani,
Signors of Nemi, and their friends Ursini ;
To him of Pozzo, and the two Romani,
Great geniuses, Cesi and Cesarini ;
But more especially to Prince Borghese,
And Simon Tassi, the Pavul Marchese.

Soon as they heard about the enter prize,
They all concurred that he must be insane,
Meanwhile the Count, stripped of his armour lies,
The fears of death had stupified his brain ;
Two surgeons search at once, with anxious eyes,
Where he is wounded, but they search in vain ;
And not discovering even the skin abraded,
None ever laughed, or quizzed a man as they did.

The Count observed : " Look narrowly, I pray !
"My upper vest is covered o'er with gore ;
"Deceive me not in this kind hearted way,
"My soul is ready, I shall grieve no more."
The upper vest, still glancing many a ray,
Is brought, and every atom they explore ;
But not a stain, nor ought like blood, is found,
Except a scarlet ribbon, which was bound

Gaily about the neck, and loosely fell
Down to the waist. Then all were satisfied ;
All saw distinctly, and could truly tell
What was the wound of which he nearly died ;
At last perceiving his delusion, well
He turned the joke, rejoicing as with pride ;
And, with both hands in air devoutly raised,
He gracious Heaven for his deliverance praised.

And pardoned Titta and his wife, for crimes
Heavy and numerous; and a vow he made
To go upon a pilgrimage betimes
To Rome, and visit every holy shade ;
And meantime quit the camp, since ease sublimes
The mind for this high duty long delayed;
So the ram butts, and takes a backward course,
And then returns with greater rage and force.

But how he went to Rome, and what he did
In the Pope's chamber, such the honour deign'd ;
And how a lodging he possessed unbid
Within a palace ; how he there remained ;
And after, how act of his was hid)
He by his own great bravery obtained
A new estate in Turkey ; I opine,
These must be sung by worthier pen than mine.

For I'm not gifted with high sounding phrase,
Fit for such glorious themes ; I therefore turn
To Titta, who, amidst the encampment strays,
Having put oil' his armour, proudly and stem,
And boasting of his feat, beyond nil praise,
A deed, a glory, 'twas his fate to earn;
And now he finds the wound the Count had got
Had disappeared in searching for-the spot.

As a balloon well filled with wind, on high
Majestic sails through heaven's ethereal plain ;
If but a point should pierce it in the sky,
Flaccid it falls, exhausted ; flat again ;
So the proud Roman, in whose haughty eye
Immortal honours shone, and vast disdain ;
Lost all his windy pride when this he heard,
And like a rat, half drowned in oil appeared.

Not so his second ; he was shrewd and clever,
And thus consoled him : " In these days, my Tit !
"None are thought brave, but those who, boasting ever,
"Talk of themselves, and puff their deeds and wit ;
"If conquered, and as dead, (who's the deceiver !)
"The Count was carried to his tent, 'tis fit
"That we should so report the facts to all,
"Within, and out of camp, both great and small.

For thee it is enough, he was o'erthrown,
"By the first stroke, and if he does not die,
"Why, who desired it? 'twas thy wish alone
"To be the conqueror, and be rated high ;
"Let Fame pursue its course, to thy renown
"It still redounds — if true, or but a lie ;
"And thou shalt be immortalized in verse,
"For Fulvio Testi shall thy deeds rehearse. .

"Fulvio is very hostile to the Count,
"And will thy acts in love and arms declare ;
"The beaming beauties, and the charms recount,
"Of thy sweet idol, thy devoted fair !
"The pawns and mortgages of great amount,
"That thou hast given, so generously, for her;
"The vineyards, villages of various size,
"That it has cost thee courting her bright eyes.

"What pure contentment, what supreme delight
"To lovers, gazing on the lucid blue
"Of eyes enamoured ; even in beggar's plight,
"Enjoying beauty's treasure ever new ;
"Cupid is by the ancients (they were right)
"Painted, unclothed, and, with a moral view ;
"For he brings all who serve him to distress,
"And makes them only thirst for nakedness.

"Amidst thy fond amours he will resound;
"Thy deeds in this great struggle, and thy worth ;
"And with such strains, as welcome the renown'd,
"Render eterne thy memory on earth ;
"Already I see Fame the world around,
"Trumpeting thy exploits and glory forth ;
".And with thine own strong hand against the Pope,
"Unfold rebellion's .standard, full of hope."

Thus reasoned Tuscanella, laughing loud,
And Titta laughed in concert — not so high,
For still the poison in his vitals glowed,
Not knowing how to cover such a lie.
Musing awhile, and seeing neither mode,
Nor poor excuse—to save his credit by,
Resolved the Count should have a murderous doom,
Just to confirm the story sent to Rome.

Equipped in coat of mail, and at his side
A sword, he went to find his victim out ;
The Count at St. Ambrozio's had applied,
And with the priests was talking, so, in doubt,
Titta sent in a message, and thus tried
To bring the meeting, he desired, about ;
The wary Count made ready his cross-bow,
And from an upper window looked below ;

And asked the stranger's wishes : Titta said
He wished him to come down,—the Count excused
Himself, and know ing he had nought to dread,
door being firmly shut) he unconfused,
Observed : " If you have business in your head,
"Tell it, or come up stairs!" Titta refused,
And most indignantly himself revealed,
And on the Count a thousand curses pealed.

But well the Count retorted with a smile :
"Thou art a man most despicably base ;
"To keep thy anger a whole day is vile,
"I, with my armour put off mine ; the place
"To show thy valour in, if void of guile,
"Cannot be here,—pray have a little grace ;
"I gave thee proof in battle of my might,
"And I have met thee too in single light.

"When I was wrathful and in arms, you should
"Have taken your revenge, but, Titta ! now
"Your labour's vain, I am not in that mood,
"To hear the whimsies of a madman ; go !
"And when you're sound in brain, of temperate blood,
"Return, and you'll agree with me I know;
"I've nothing here to give you, that is plain,
"So take a nap, and we'll converse again."

Titta replied : — " Goat, poltroon, come away ;
"Come out, I'll teach thee a good lesson,
The Count to this had not a word to say,
Hut, in the end, his wrath grew fierce and high,
And with an arrow, half resolved lo .slay,
Struck him between the kidney part and thigh,
So dreadfully, he laid him quivering flat,
And jumped out of the window after that,

Roaring: " Thou liest i'th' throat, vile Roman, thou
"Abandoned wretch, spy, traitor, as thou art !"
Titta feels darkness deepening o'er his brow
And scarcely hears a word, so keen the smart ;
But the by-standers interfere, and now
Rush in between, the combatants to part ;
And lead poor Titta to his tent, bent double —
With sharp lumbago, and in desperate trouble.

There Tuscanella flouted him,! because
Instead of lifting up his hands in prayer
To heaven against his rival, he would pause
And entertain wild whims, as light as air,
To murder him ; and this against the laws ;
He had incensed him other front to bear,
And from a harmless, toothless frog, had changed
Him to a tiger fierce, and thus was he revenged.

He said : " My friend ! if victory you despise,
"What say you when from you she takes her flight ?
"He who goes seeking quarrels, as a prize,
"Knows not that Madame Fortune's wings are light."
Titta upon the earth now fixed his eyes
Pensive and speechless, a most luckless knight.
But it is time to take another tone,
And sing the deeds by powerful armies done.